


a million reasons to give you up

by eloboosting



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: FWB to relationship, Infidelity, M/M, depressingshit.txt, shitty relationships and shitty communication, some really depressing sex, wisdom dispenser Acorn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 06:59:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6364051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eloboosting/pseuds/eloboosting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"...a small part of Hyeongseok had always believed they were meant to be the relationship that lasted, the dream couple bound for the fairy-tale happily ever after. They’d survived through four splits, three teams, two World Championships, an immense amount of teasing from their teammates and—</i>
</p><p><i>And Hyeongseok had foolishly thought that he'd be enough to save Eojin from himself."</i> </p><p>At the start of season six, Hyeongseok and Sehyeong both move to RNG, where they try to get over their exes (by fucking each other) to varying degrees of success.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a million reasons to give you up

**Author's Note:**

> This is for a, who knows she tilts me to oblivion and beyond and who I hate for ever suggesting this idea to me at all. Because even though [Looper is one of my favorites](http://i.imgur.com/qPYr4JI.jpg), he always ends up being my emotional punching bag.
> 
> At some point in my fandom career, I couldn't write anything other than <3k crack fic. Apparently I'm now only capable of writing ~8k rare-pair longfic (by my standards, okay) with a stupid amount of feelings.
> 
> Heed the tags, past [dade/Looper](http://imgur.com/hvoZs5V.gif) and [Mata/Dandy](http://i.imgur.com/gpXKUKc.gifv), the two tiltiest pairings in the world, and yes, there is infidelity.

Moving to China is turning out to be the worst decision Hyeongseok's ever made.

And it's not even really China's fault; it's who he decided to move with. But to be fair, it had made sense at the time.

Moving with Eojin, that is.

Back in Korea, Eojin had been his closest friend on Samsung—even when they switched him to Blue and Wonseok to White, it’s not like Hyeongseok saw him any less. They were still a part of the same organization, if not the same team, and it honestly made things a little easier, having the separation of work and leisure.

And after Worlds, when sister teams were expelled and all of Samsung disbanded, Eojin had asked him to come with him and—

Hyeongseok had said yes.

All of Samsung had ended up pairing off in the end, apart from the odd outlier of Dayoon to World Elite (where he’d be just next door to Hyeongseok and Eojin on Masters 3, anyway). He and Eojin had had a _serious thing_ near the end of their stay in Korea, and Hyeongseok had naively thought it would stay the same in China. That maybe in China, a country with less infrastructure and more freedom—a place far away from the expectations of his parents and the ever-watching eyes of the public—would actually help them advance past the weird stage of casual dating they’d found themselves in.

The short version: no, things aren’t the same.

The slightly longer version: when Eojin tilts, he tilts _hard._

The full story is painful and humiliating and a many number of things that Hyeongseok doesn’t want to recall. In alignment with his expectations, China is foreign and strange and an increasingly large number of things Hyeongseok resents.

But more importantly, in China, they lose and lose and Eojin turns into someone that Hyeongseok doesn’t recognize. There’s a new viciousness to him, a bitterness that extends both on and off the rift.

Maybe he should've expected something along those lines; Eojin had always been more liable to breaks in his mentality than anyone else on Samsung, but he’d always managed to come back to normal. This time, though, it seems more pervasive—more permanent.

Back in Korea, Eojin’s family had been a three-hour train ride away and he’d been surrounded by friends and coaches who understood his situation and had the tools to help. Now, it's just Hyeongseok and a few Chinese support staff who try their best but, with the language barrier and the cultural differences, are relatively ineffective.

So maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise when things collapse.

But it is, because a small part of Hyeongseok had always believed they were meant to be the relationship that lasted, the dream couple bound for the fairy-tale happily ever after. They’d survived through four splits, three teams, two World Championships, an immense amount of teasing from their teammates and—

And Hyeongseok had foolishly thought that he'd be enough to save Eojin from himself.

But at the start of the next season, he moves to Royal and Eojin moves to Qiao Gu, and their breakup is sad and understated and completely uneventful in the realm of things. In the end, it fades to the wayside when Sehyeong walks out on Inkyu and joins Hyeongseok on Royal, causing more of a commotion than he and Eojin could ever manage.

-

Seeing Sehyeong around the house is a little disorienting at first; Hyeongseok is so used to seeing another familiar face instead.

It’s not like he hadn’t been close with Sehyeong back on White, but just like how he and Eojin had had their arrangement, Sehyeong and Inkyu had theirs as well. They'd both been preoccupied, but now that they’ve separated from their respective partners, it’s—

Well, it’s different.

Sehyeong's grown into himself in the past year, dresses himself better and gained a sense of humility that had been sorely missing back on White.

But, then again, all of White had ended up learning that all-important lesson—except for maybe Wonseok, who reigns on the top of the LPL standings with Hyukkyu like he belongs there. But they’d all grown from the experience, faced their flaws head on and improved, unlike—

Unlike Eojin.

On the rift, Sehyeong is just as Hyeongseok remembers, with his constant scolding and chatter on the comms. Watching him berate Wang Cheng during breaks between games is oddly reminiscent of their old days on MVP, when Seungbin had been reckless and too headstrong for his own good. He nags at Hyeongseok about teleporting, continuously reminding him to buy wards and pinging their exact placements like the vision tyrant Hyeongseok had become so accustomed to back on White.

It’s oddly comforting.

But when they leave the game behind them, Sehyeong is different—more subdued, more quiet, almost _tired_.

He drinks more than he used to, runs through bottles of soju like it's a requirement rather than a form of fun. It makes Hyeongseok wonder what happened back on VG, whether Sehyeong and Inkyu collapsed as silently as he and Eojin, suffocated by the weight of losing. But knowing Sehyeong’s keyboard-throwing, Jayce-support temper and Inkyu’s uncanny ability to poke people _exactly_ where it hurts the most, it most likely went down in a crashing ball of fire.

Hyeongseok doesn’t ask, but he makes an extra effort to keep himself available. He ensures Sehyeong’s never alone on his self-destructive binges, hovers by his side during team meetings and outings. And if Sehyeong notices, he doesn’t comment, but he does seem to lean on Hyeongseok more, acts friendlier and smiles more at him as they prepare during the pre-season.

- 

They face Vici in the second match of the split, beating them in a decisive 2-1 that has the commentators singing them praises about their aggressive play. Hyeongseok watches Sehyeong smile as he makes a big show of shaking Inkyu's hand and ~~kisses Inkyu on the neck~~ whispers in his ear—and he laughs, because it's like they're back on White, with Sehyeong overly affectionate as he teases Inkyu about his play.

But the moment's immediately broken when Shi Yu hesitantly taps him on the shoulder and asks if Sehyeong's behavior is normal, when Hyeongseok shakes Jihoon's hand and it's been three long years since they'd been together on MVP—two years since White had won Worlds together.

Sehyeong and Inkyu broke up at the start of the season and the uniforms they wear are so very different. Sehyeong looks like he's in his pajamas and Inkyu looks like a small cow, and when his team goes out for celebratory drinks, Hyeongseok demurs and stays back at the house.

He tires of solo queue quickly enough, deciding for an early night’s rest as a reward for his part in their win. But that ends all too soon when he feels someone pulling at his covers, hands feeling up his face until he rolls over to snap out, “What?”

"Hyeongseokie," Sehyeong slurs, obviously still drunk from his night out. "Play with me."

Hyeongseok sighs and looks at his clock: 4am. Five hours until practice starts again, then. Wonderful. "How much did you drink?"

Sehyeong raises four fingers, and then another, and then sets down his hand entirely. "Not as much as Seungbin," he says proudly.

Which isn't helpful in the least, but the thought that Cheonju and Gwanhyung are having a worse time with Seungbin does make him feel slightly better.

Cheonju was usually the one left with the unfortunate responsibility of playing caretaker for their drunker teammates back on Samsung, but Hyeongseok's been through enough shitty nights to know how to expertly strip Sehyeong to his underwear and throw him into bed like the lump of dead weight that he is.

"Hyeongseokie, we won." Sehyeong laughs at that, a private joke Hyeongseok isn't privy to. "Didn't you and Eojin ever do anything to celebrate?"

He flushes, because it was the worst kept secret of Samsung about _how_ exactly Sehyeong and Inkyu would celebrate after matches. And it would be a lie to say he hasn’t ever thought about kissing Sehyeong, but right after this match with Vici—right after he saw how completely not over Inkyu Sehyeong is? And especially when he’s still stuck on his own asshole of an ex?

"Get some sleep,” he says wearily, slipping into his own bed and turning to face the wall.

He feels Sehyeong plop into his bed, snuggling closer to Hyeongseok with a muffled giggle. "Hyeongseokie," he says straight into Hyeongseok's ear, lips wet and voice loud and obnoxious. "Just once. C'mon, we won."

Hyeongseok just lies there for a moment, takes in the arm that's wormed itself around his waist and the solid weight of Sehyeong's chest against his back, and it's entirely too tempting. Just once—

"Once," he says, and leans in to kiss Sehyeong.

He immediately finds himself flipped to his back, looking up into Sehyeong’s suddenly clear eyes and wide smirk. “Okay,” Sehyeong says, sounding overly pleased and Hyeongseok realizes how completely out of depth he is. “Once.”

There are a few clear differences between Eojin and Sehyeong: one, Sehyeong tastes and smells of soju and cigarettes, two, Sehyeong is heavier and more able to keep Hyeongseok pinned down to the bed, and three, Sehyeong is incredibly pushy and impatient and rides dick like a pro.

Sehyeong doesn't let him help with any of the prep, pushing his hands away with an irritated, "You’re too slow.”

So instead, he lies back, transfixed on the way Sehyeong fingers himself open, the way he lets his head fall back as he seems to revel in the sensation. He doesn’t take very long with it, uses barely any lube and Hyeongseok wonders if Sehyeong _wants_ this to hurt.

But those thoughts are left abandoned when Sehyeong lowers himself onto Hyeongseok’s dick, pushing against Hyeongseok’s chest for stability. And Hyeongseok doesn't know if it's that physical pressure or the sight of Sehyeong fucking himself on his dick that keeps him out of breath.

Sehyeong doesn’t let him rest for long, though, grabs his hands and brings them to his waist. "Is that all you have?" he asks, like this is a competition.

And Hyeongseok may have been the quietest member of White, but he responds to challenges the exact same way his teammates do. He narrows his eyes, gripping Sehyeong's hips and slams up right as Sehyeong pushes down again.

"Oh," Sehyeong says, voice hitching. "That's better."

Sehyeong closes his eyes after another particularly hard thrust, and Hyeongseok, in true self-sabotaging fashion, can only imagine what Sehyeong's thinking of. That the dick inside him is Inkyu's—that he never left Vici and they'd won together again.

"Inkyu," Sehyeong murmurs, and it's all of Hyeongseok's worst fears and expectations at once. There's no way for him to follow suit and pretend; the differences between Eojin and Sehyeong are too stark to possibly fool himself with.

Instead, he watches with his eyes open, arousal warm in his blood even as his climax hits like a punch to the gut. 

-

He walks into the practice room the next morning to catch Sehyeong staring blankly at his computer. He's not in queue, not even browsing through the patch notes or Inven as usual—he's very literally staring at the league client lobby.

"Bad game?" Hyeongseok asks lightly, sliding into his own chair right next to him.

Sehyeong closes his eyes and says with pure exhaustion, "I think my ADC had a negative KDA."

Hyeongseok glances at his computer—he really should start solo queue and practice, try to maintain some semblance of normality and pretend last night, the definite worst decision he’s ever made, never happened—but then looks back to Sehyeong and makes a decision. "Get breakfast with me?"

"Will food fill the hole in my soul?" Sehyeong asks, but he closes out of his client anyway. "Let's get that [fried bread thing. With the soy milk](http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aM2Mhb3iRJM/Us0LK55OoVI/AAAAAAAAOoI/vyJ4eqiIoxk/s1600/fu+hang+dou+jiang+sweet+soymilk+and+fried+cruller.jpg)."

They end up at one of Hyeongseok's favorite stands, sitting across from each other on the small bench with their fried dough, pretending last night never happened and things aren't awkward at all. Surprisingly enough, things do feel pretty natural—but food always normalizes things, even when it’s dipping vaguely phallic-shaped pieces of bread into a white liquid before putting it into their mouths.

"You know," Sehyeong says casually and Hyeongseok hums noncommittally. "You're bigger than I thought. I'm still sore."

He nearly spits everything out of his mouth, but instead chokes on his bread instead. "Oh," he says after coughing ineffectually for a few minutes while Sehyeong looks on at him with amusement.

"You still eat like a chipmunk," Sehyeong teases, like he didn't just almost kill Sehyeong with his misplaced words. "How much can you fit in your mouth?"

Hyeongseok doesn't choke this time, but he glares balefully at Sehyeong. "Really," he says.

"Just the tip?" Sehyeong asks, all innocence, before he shrugs. "I remember what you said. Once."

Twice on his cock, he thinks unnecessarily, and immediately curses himself for the reminder. There’s only one person on Sehyeong’s mind, and Hyeongseok has no intention of repeating his mistakes.

"Can we please just eat?" he asks.

Sehyeong smiles cheekily. "If that's all you want." 

Hyeongseok remembers the way Sehyeong had sighed out Inkyu’s name, the smile on his face and the graceful curve to his neck and the arch to his back, and just how incredibly shitty and small it made Hyeongseok feel when his blood froze in his veins and crushed any semblance of pride he’d built.

“Yeah,” he says. “That’s all.”

-

The next week, they beat OMG 2-0, and Hyeongseok, as the recipient of the MVP for game one, finds himself dragged out to the celebrations as a guest of honor. They make toasts and laugh companionably as they drink, almost like they’re a family and a team rather than five socially awkward kids getting paid vastly different amounts of money to play a video game. A few of their teammates aren't technically of age, but the bar turns a blind eye as he and Sehyeong pour out shots of soju and baijiu, laughing at the expressions Yuan Hao pulls as he struggles to down his share.

It’s the closest to the happiness of Samsung that Hyeongseok’s felt in the past year, which is probably why he's dumb enough to try and go shot for shot with Sehyeong. In other words, he gets so shitfaced drunk he can barely stand without feeing the room move around him, where he's left straddling the border of wanting to vomit up his insides and passing out on the table. He eventually fights off both once he manages to chug half his weight in water.

Even then, by the time they manage to stumble back to the house, Hyeongseok's tipsy enough to indulge in his stupid decisions and has managed to convince himself that last week's method of celebration is an excellent idea. Drunk off victory as much as alcohol, he's the one to hop into Sehyeong's bed this time.

"I got MVP," he says, stretching out in the sheets. "Don't I get something special?"

Sehyeong laughs. "So did I." But he still sits down next to Hyeongseok, pulling off his shirt and throwing it to the side.

"You can also get something special." Hyeongseok says, twisting to turn toward Sehyeong and imitating his voice from last week. "C’mon we won."

“What happened to only once?” Sehyeong asks smugly, and Hyeongseok leans in to kiss the smirk off his face. This time, Sehyeong sucks him off, so he's lax and boneless when Sehyeong flips him to his back and fucks him into the sheets.

“I do all the work,” Sehyeong complains, but he doesn't let up the pace, and Hyeongseok is done with his shit.

“Like you don't enjoy being in charge," he retorts. "When's the last time you've stayed quiet for more than a minute in game?"

Sehyeong laughs. “You’re right.”

Sehyeong keeps his eyes open this time, and Hyeongseok is a little ashamed at how stupidly _happy_ that makes him feel—to know Sehyeong's full concentration is on him and him alone.

It proves a little too heady, and he comes untouched, without even a hand on his dick to help him along, just a dick up his ass and some misplaced pride at being distracting enough to pay attention to.

"Oh, you just," Sehyeong starts, obviously a little dazed as his hips stop moving. One of his hands comes to rest at Hyeongseok's stomach, as if he needs physical proof that Hyeongseok's just—

"Don't," Hyeongseok says, embarrassment and humiliation a terrible contrast to his climax, covering his face with his hands. "Just keep going."

But Sehyeong doesn't. He gently pries Hyeongseok's hands from his face and presses a kiss against the corner of his mouth. "You did," he says. "Do you usually—"

Hyeongseok brings both hands up to cup the back of Sehyeong's head and presses their faces together. It's not a moment that can be saved with kissing, but it prevents him from having to say or hear anything more.

When Sehyeong finally pulls away, he thankfully doesn’t comment further on it, but his gaze is sharp on Hyeongseok’s face as he pulls out. “Okay,” he says, and brings a hand down to Hyeongseok’s dick. “Can you—?”

“Keep going,” he says, because the pressure and feel of Sehyeong in him is still good in the haze of afterglow.

Sehyeong slows his pace, though, leaning in every few moments to press a kiss against Hyeongseok’s cheek or his collarbone or his neck. This is just a no-strings-attached hookup, but that doesn’t stop the glow in Hyeongseok’s heart, from letting him feel cherished and cared for.

- 

The next morning, Sehyeong nudges him awake.

“Hyeongseokie,” he says, smile bright and chipper against the rising sun. Hyeongseok buries himself deeper into the covers and tries to will away his headache.

“Four more hours,” he says. “It’s not even completely light outside.”

Sehyeong laughs, rolling over to splay himself against Hyeongseok’s back. “Come on, we can get breakfast.”

Hyeongseok turns back to him, squinting his eyes. “You’re not the one who spent the night getting fucked to an inch of your life,” he says. “Get breakfast alone.”

“I’ll pay,” Sehyeong wheedles. “We can get anything you want. I’ll even cover lunch and dinner.”

Hyeongseok’s never been one to turn down free food, and even sleep-deprived and nursing a burgeoning hangover, he can’t in good conscience turn down the offer. “One more hour,” he says. “And we’re getting hot pot for dinner.”

Sehyeong laughs again, breath hot against Hyeongseok’s neck. “Okay,” he says. “It’s a date.”

-

Neither of them wins MVP against HYG, but that doesn’t stop them from fucking after. It starts feeling less like he’s standing in for someone else's part in a long-standing tradition and more like an easy outlet for the adrenaline playing on stage always builds in him. Anyway, Sehyeong clearly needs to get over Inkyu, and Hyeongseok could use a helping hand with his leftover feelings for Eojin.

It doesn’t mean anything, he tells himself, it was just an arrangement of convenience.

They don’t make it to the drinking this time, with Hyeongseok on his knees sucking Sehyeong off in one of the abandoned practice rooms while their teammates pack up their things.

Sehyeong keeps a tight grip on his hair, holding his head still as he fucks Hyeongseok’s mouth. They don’t have much time until someone notices the length of their absence, so Hyeongseok doesn’t protest the rough treatment. It doesn’t take long for Sehyeong to come, anyway, and even less for him to jerk Hyeongseok off after.

This round is more for taking the edge off—they’ll have time enough when they get back to the house.

The day after, Hyeongseok takes Sehyeong out for lunch, a small hole-in-the-wall that had been one of his and Eojin’s favorites. It’s a tiny Vietnamese place that makes the best noodle soup, and it feels weird to share it with someone else, but the reassuring way Sehyeong looks at him thinks that maybe—

That maybe there’s the possibility of something more. It’s a thought that he can’t and shouldn’t hope for, but his heart is a traitor and his brain is weak.

- 

They lose to IG the next week, but they don’t stop fucking. Even more surprisingly, they don’t stop the dates, either. In fact, they start doing it more often, not even needing the excuse for winning or celebrating to sneak off to their room for a quick break during practice.

The sex is less frantic now, the way they move together is best described as leisurely—almost _loving_. But that’s too loaded a word to even possibly consider seriously.

And it’s on one of their dates that things start crumbling beneath Hyeongseok’s feet, when he starts to realize just how far in he’s gotten into this mess with no lantern to save him.

"What?" Hyeongseok asks, rubbing a hand over his face. "Did I get some on me?"

Sehyeong laughs. "No, it's just, I can't believe we're doing this." He looks at their shared ice cream cone in his hand. “ _This_.”

He blinks. "I guess it's a little high school—"

"No, it's good," Sehyeong interrupts. "But Inkyu and I never—" He breaks off, and then quietly, "We didn’t really do dates."

"Oh," Hyeongseok says, unsure how to return this once innocuous moment back to its former sweetness. "It was more league and chill?"

Sehyeong smiles at that. "More league than chill." He takes another bite out of their ice cream. "He was a shitty top, anyway, you're much better."

Hyeongseok’s not sure if the double entendre was meant, so he chooses not to mention it, but he does nod along. “He always thought it was easy,” he says with a shrug. “Just run in and engage.”

“Yeah,” Sehyeong says. “Too bad he spent most of the time dead." He raises a hand to ruffle Hyeongseok’s hair, presses a kiss against Hyeongseok’s cheek. “Thanks for keeping me safe.”

And against his better judgment—against any whit of common sense he has in him, Hyeongseok starts to care.

He starts to hope.

-

There’s a bruise at the base of Sehyeong’s neck that Hyeongseok’s almost a hundred percent sure wasn’t there the day before. He’s never been very interested in leaving marks, and it’s not exactly a location that easily bruises without any external intervention.

Hyeongseok isn’t paranoid, but he is practical and a current bearer of low self-esteem, and the simplest explanation is almost always the correct one. Sehyeong starts slipping out of the house without any explanation for his absence, coming back with a new bruise each time, all in different locations only Hyeongseok would find them.

Because they still fuck, because they still go on dates and confuse their teammates and run through all the relationship clichés. Sehyeong brings him fucking _flowers_ on one of their anniversaries, and Hyeongseok stares at them for a solid five minutes before the housekeeper finds a suitable vase to put them in.

- 

But he gets it.

Sometimes you cheat on your rebound, and it’s not like they had discussed exclusivity, although Hyeongseok had thought—

Sometimes you cheat on your rebound with your shitty ex-boyfriend because you still have too many unresolved feelings of lust and love, because you’ve been with them so long the world only seems _right_ when you’re with them, because, honestly, if Eojin weren’t such a reclusive non-factor, Hyeongseok probably would’ve fallen for that trap himself. But instead, he’s the one watching Sehyeong sneak out of the house to go fuck Inkyu in nondescript locations.

He’s a rebound; he understands what that means, because he’s been using Sehyeong as a crutch just as much as Sehyeong’s been using him. They’d both entered into their relationship with the clear idea that it would be a temporary reprieve, both looking for a friend they could confide in and fuck while they got over the guys they shouldn’t be in love with anymore.

But the problem is, even if Hyeongseok can logic out Sehyeong’s actions, it doesn’t make them hurt any less. Yes, Sehyeong’s his rebound as much as he is Sehyeong’s, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care for him, that he isn’t developing feelings for another self-absorbed asshole who talks too much in game.

He wonders if that’s his type: ridiculous video-game playing assholes—if he’ll forever be cursed to unhappiness because of the people he falls for.

-

He catches them fucking in one of the backstage practice rooms, Sehyeong on his back with his legs wrapped around Inkyu's hips, begging and begging for it _harder_ and _faster_ as Inkyu fucks him into the couch.

The only emotion Hyeongseok can readily identify in his heart is resignation.

Sure, he feels the burn of betrayal, the bitter edge of disappointment, but in the end, the overwhelming feeling is inevitability. Honestly, he doesn't know why he's all that surprised; their first time had been a glaring signpost in the ground for this sort of shit. It had always been about DanDy and Mata, the best jungler and support to have ever touched the game—the duo that revolutionized professional League and carried their team through Worlds.

Looper, on the other hand, is the most unimpressive piece of their World Championship team. He’s a non-factor that has no right to invade on the partnership the defined an era of complete dominance.

Hyeongseok knows exactly how bitter losing tastes, the feeling of drowning in inadequacy. This is worse than any game he's ever lost though, even against the western teams at 2013 worlds.

But he stays because he's a masochist and an idiot, because he cares about Sehyeong and listening to him get fucked by someone else is still turning him on even as it destroys his self confidence.

- 

He stays just outside the doorway, hallway abandoned of people at this late hour. Their teammates have probably already gone home on the assumption Hyeongseok and Sehyeong had stayed behind to talk to their old Samsung teammates like they sometimes did, and well, one of them is certainly spending quality time with one of those old teammates right now. His legs are frozen and weak, and even if he wanted to leave, he can’t muster the strength to stand.

“It’s not the same with him, is it.” And even through the wall, he can recognize Inkyu's voice, harsh and rough with jealousy.

“No,” Sehyeong replies quietly, and Hyeongseok closes his eyes. “It’s better.”

Hyeongseok blinks, unsure if he heard the words correctly, because—

“Better?” Inkyu spits out.

“Yeah, better,” Sehyeong says, voice rising slowly. “Because we actually spend time together outside of practice and sex, and I don’t feel like shit after we fuck, and—“ His voice breaks, suddenly exhausted. “And I know he wouldn’t immediately drop me for an ex-girlfriend when she finally decides to call again.”

Hyeongseok takes the time to peek in through the doorway, catches the way Inkyu lowers his arms, voice dropping with them as well. “I thought you wanted this to be casual.”

“Does this still seem casual to you?” Sehyeong sighs. “Why do you care so much that I’m with Hyeongseok?”

Inkyu doesn’t answer, just keeps looking at Sehyeong in a way that makes Hyeongseok almost feel sorry for him.

Sehyeong pulls on his shirt, pats at his hair like the bruises on his neck won’t already make it extremely clear what he’s just done. “Bye Inkyu,” he says. “Take care.”

Hyeongseok remembers just in time to walk away from the doorway, ducking into one of the other empty rooms in the hallway like he was never there, steeling himself to pretend that nothing’s wrong at all.

-

Sehyeong is extra sweet with him when Hyeongseok sees him next, doubly patient and nice and almost _romantic_ when he asks Hyeongseok on an honest-to-god date at a real restaurant. And if Hyeongseok didn't know that it was a gesture made out of guilt, if he couldn't see the bruises just above Sehyeong's collar, he would've been flattered, maybe even happy.

All he feels instead is resentment.

He still agrees, and it goes smoothly enough. It’s not like they can be all that affectionate in public, but the food is nice and the atmosphere more intimate than anything they’ve done before.

But there’s a stiffness to the way Sehyeong moves, a twitchy edginess in his spine like sitting still for too long is uncomfortable for him.

He’s too tired for confrontation, though. From one exhausting relationship to another, Hyeongseok wonders if he’s too naïve, that he thinks himself lucky that someone finds him desirable enough to pursue at all.

Sehyeong leads them back to their room after dinner, kisses Hyeongseok sweetly on the mouth and whispers stupidly fond and affectionate things in his ear. That night, he keeps Hyeongseok pinned against the bed, hands gripped tight around Hyeongseok’s hips as he sucks him off.

He takes his time fingering Hyeongseok open, stretching him gentle and slow until Hyeongseok manages to get hard again. He makes no moves to touch his own dick, just continues to leisurely fuck Hyeongseok with his fingers, pushing in more and more lube until Hyeongseok can almost hear the squelch of it as Sehyeong pushes in with his fingers.

Hyeongseok reaches out a hand, places it on Sehyeong’s shoulder. “I’m ready,” he says. “You can—”

Sehyeong shakes his head. “Not tonight,” he says, and pours more lube onto his hand, pressing his fingers right up against Hyeongseok’s prostate until he sees stars.

And Hyeongseok can’t forget— _won’t_ forget that this is all some pathetic distraction for Sehyeong, that one person and one person only would be first in Sehyeong’s heart and mind and that isn’t Hyeongseok. But the care and deference Sehyeong treats him with tonight, his concentrated stare as he looks over Hyeongseok, the methodical way he slowly builds up the pleasure at the base of Hyeongseok’s spine—Hyeongseok can almost forget, and that’s enough for now.

- 

Of all people, it’s Cheonju who approaches him to talk about the situation. It makes sense, Cheonju is the unofficial keeper of all Samsung secrets; the mature one with the wise advice who makes sure his younger friends don’t fuck up their lives too much.

But Hyeongseok would be lying if he didn’t feel a little disappointed that it’s not Sehyeong finally coming clean to him about the mess.

“You’re not stupid,” Cheonju says, blunt and straight to the point. “You know he’s cheating on you.”

“Yeah,” Hyeongseok says and looks away, to the untouched drink in front of him. “I know.”

"You're good for him,” Cheonju says. “But that's not always something that works both ways. He treats you like shit and you let him get away with it."

Hyeongseok looks back and tilts his head to the side. "He's fucking Inkyu on the side, not abusing me.”

Cheonju sighs. "Why do you let him do this?”

“Well, why not? I’m his rebound,” Hyeongseok shrugs. “I’m obviously not who he actually wants.”

Because it's easier to pretend he doesn't care about someone new, Hyeongseok doesn't say, because this way, at least one of them gets to be happy, because—

Because the sad thing is, even after their shitty break-up and months of reflection, when Hyeongseok tries to think of his happiest memories, his mind immediately jumps back to the small moments he had with Eojin back in Korea. Late-night instant ramen runs, the stupid things Eojin would do to make him laugh while duo-queuing, the casual affection and intimacy Hyeongseok had so easily taken for granted—and he wonders if these memories will be forever poisoned by the aftermath.

“But what about you?”

“It’s too late for that,” he says, voice coming out more tired and bitter than he wants. “And it’s not like he’s who I want, either.”  

“Do you really think that?” Cheonju asks.

Hyeongseok thinks of the smug smirk Sehyeong gets when he teases Hyeongseok about eating, the warmth of his arm around Hyeongseok’s shoulders, the affection in his voice when he says Hyeongseok’s name, and he closes his eyes. No, Sehyeong isn’t the same as Eojin, and his feelings for him will probably never match up to the depth of feeling Hyeongseok had felt for Eojin, but it’s close.

“I don’t know,” he says, empty.

- 

Eojin doesn’t show up to his birthday dinner, and while Hyeongseok had known that it was a possibility, he’d thought—

It’s not something he lets himself dwell on, especially not when he’s sitting right next to Sehyeong and looking across the table at Inkyu and Jihoon. He wonders if it’d be possible to suffocate from the sheer amount of awkward between them; the silence dangerously still as the rest of their friends chat cheerfully enough to their side.

Hyeongseok has the luxury of burrowing himself in food, at least, and a reputation for not talking very much. And Jihoon is a gracious enough table partner to keep up the small talk when he does come for air, and it’s honestly nice to catch up with his old friend again.

Inkyu and Sehyeong don't look at each other all through dinner, twisting their necks to talk to their other neighbors like it isn't incredibly obvious they're ignoring each other. Not that Hyeongseok can blame them, their last encounter hadn't exactly gone _well_.

Cheonju sends him a _significant_ look over the table, and Hyeongseok neatly averts his eyes. But it’s never that easy to avoid Cheonju, not when he has a life lesson that must be learned, so Hyeongseok finds himself cornered after dinner and right before they head off to the first bar of the night.

“Just keep what I said in mind, okay?” he says. “You deserve better.”

Hyeongseok looks up at Inkyu and Sehyeong, who are back to chatting amiably like normal, although he can recognize the unusual amount of tension in Sehyeong’s spine.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

-

The thought festers in his mind, like a malignant tumor that refuses him the freedom to think of anything else. He sees the bruises on Sehyeong’s neck, the scratches along his thighs, and all Hyeongseok can think of is the moment right after winning 2014 Worlds, when Sehyeong had rushed past everyone to barrel straight into Inkyu's arms, when he'd lifted Inkyu up into the air with the most adoring smile on his face, when they'd been so wrapped up in each other they forgot about everyone else around them.

Hyeongseok wonders how he's supposed to compete.

And he realizes—maybe he can’t.

It comes to head one day in the practice room, when the rest of their teammates are in the kitchen taking a quick lunch break. They’re both waiting in queue, but Hyeongseok finally makes the decision to cancel his out, turning to Sehyeong.

"I don't want to be a substitute," he says.

Sehyeong blinks, looking at him and then back at his queue with confusion. "For what?"

"For Inkyu."

The look of shock on Sehyeong's face is almost enough to convince Hyeongseok that maybe he's being paranoid, that he imagined their trysts. But then his eyes settle on the purpling skin just under Sehyeong's chin, and resentment settles back under his skin.

"You aren't," Sehyeong says, grabs at Hyeongseok’s hand. "What I had with Inkyu was never meant to last.”

“It wasn’t meant to last,” Hyeongseok repeats. “But how are you so sure we are?” He can’t help it—can’t stop himself when he tips Sehyeong’s head back to touch the bruises along his collarbone. “Who are these from?”

Sehyeong keeps his head leaned back, just far enough so Hyeongseok can’t see his expression. He can imagine the frown, though, the guilt and the conflict in Sehyeong’s eyes. “You know,” Sehyeong says, and it’s more infuriating than any apology.

“I do,” Hyeongseok says, almost surprised at how calm his voice comes out.

Sehyeong’s silent for a moment, and then weakly, “I’ll stop.”

“God, are you seriously—” Hyeongseok laughs as he takes his hands away from Sehyeong’s neck, can’t help but feel some sick satisfaction when Sehyeong winces. “Will you?” He wonders if this is what self-respect feels like, because it’s entirely overrated. He feels like shit, like his stomach’s been crumpled into a ball and thrown against the wall. “Bye Sehyeong.”

He steps out of his chair, stalks out of the house without a word. He doesn’t look back, and he doubts Sehyeong does either.

-

He finds himself outside the LGD house, hand poised over the door and wonders, almost hysterically, if he and Sehyeong will cause as much of a ripple in their friend group as Sehyeong and Inkyu did. It’s not as if he can switch teams now, though, but the idea of going back to the house, back to sharing the same room as Sehyeong—

He knocks on the door.

After a few minutes, the door opens to reveal Cheonju, haphazardly dressed in his jersey and sweatpants, hair a mess. “Hyeongseokie?” he asks. “Is that you?”

He’d forgotten about the shitty sleeping schedules of most pro-gamers, but it’s a little alarming that one of his oldest friends can’t confidently identify him. “Yeah,” he says, and pauses for a moment. “I, uh. Followed your advice.”

“Advice?” Cheonju asks, before his eyes widen, and he opens the door for Hyeongseok. “Come in. Let me get dressed and we can go outside for some privacy.”

He waits near the door, containing his urge to peek into the practice room. He really does want to see Seungbin and Gwanhyung, but the chance Seungbin might accidentally sell out his location to Sehyeong is too high a risk for now.

Cheonju raced down the stairs, having switched out his sweats for jeans and grabbed a jacket to partially cover the LGD logo emblazoned on his chest. “There’s this cute café a few blocks down,” he says. “It took Gyeonghwan a month to find it.”

Hyeongseok follows Cheonju’s lead, spending half the walk silently staring at his hands, before finally asking, “Am I dumb for regretting my decision?”

“No,” Cheonju says immediately. He orders himself a cappuccino and Hyeongseok grabs a latte for himself. “But you had your reasons for why you broke it off.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” he says faintly. “If it didn’t feel like I was intruding on the couple of the century.”

Cheonju snorts. “That’s what we thought you and Eojin were, back in the day.” He sends Hyeongseok an apologetic look, patting his hand as if to ward off the reminder of that part of his life. “Off the rift, Sehyeong and Inkyu could barely admit they liked each other as friends, never mind anything romantic.”

“What if they just needed a push?” Hyeongseok asks dully. “What if Inkyu just needed a threat that someone might take his position?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, you’re a top-laner, not a jungler,” Cheonju says. “A much better one than Inkyu was this past year, too.” He shakes his head. “But they’ve had three years to work out their issues. If that wasn’t enough time, nothing could fix that clusterfuck.”

Hyeongseok smiles warily. “We’ll see.”

-

Of all things, he’s reminded of the very beginnings of his career, just after his first game as a starter at the 2013 World Championships, when everything felt surreal and adrenaline was electric in his veins.

Two people had come to him after; Eojin, with a shy smile and a small pile of praise, and then Sehyeong, with a frown and a mountain of criticism.

He laned well, Eojin had said, his team-fighting was coming into form.

His teleport plays were atrocious, Sehyeong had scolded him, he couldn't even peel a sticker off his carries.

In the three years since, he's sharpened his in-game play. He's a much more competent top laner in all respects now, laning and teamfighting and warding. But he's just as awkward and uncomfortable in person as he was during his debut, so maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise he doesn’t get either of them, that he alone isn’t enough to ensure the happiness of anyone.

-

Breaking up with Eojin had been relatively easy in terms of physical distance—they’d had the luxury of switching teams. Now, though, in the middle of the season?

Hyeongseok is stuck in the same house, the same _room_ as Sehyeong. Their computers in the practice room are next to each other, their unofficially designated seats in the kitchen are next to each other, and every day is a reminder to Hyeongseok of what exactly he gave up.

Sehyeong, for the most part, tries to talk to him, aims for eye contact that Hyeongseok refuses to give him. It doesn’t help that Sehyeong’s essentially taken up assistant coach duties, that he has so much control over Hyeongseok both in-game and out. He’s forced to listen to Sehyeong talk on the comms, to sit through his critique of his play after scrimmages, grudgingly offer up his suggestions for top-lane champions that fit the compositions their staff come up with.

Hyeongseok thought it might be hard to break the habit of leaning on Sehyeong so much, of relying on his friendly smile and immediate use as stress relief. But Hyeongseok still has plenty of bad habits leftover from his time on M3—sleeping and waking up late, taking long and leisurely lunch breaks, obsessively checking Eojin's solo queue and worrying about his mentality based off his results—

And no, he hasn’t exactly broken the last one, because Eojin hasn't show up to any ex-Samsung outings since he joined QG and Hyeongseok is a nostalgic idiot who still cares even when he shouldn't.

Which is why he doesn’t expect Eojin to message him on his League client, asking to meet up. He stares at the text, not quite believing his eyes, but he slowly types in an affirmative.

- 

He meets up with Eojin for the first time that split in an old restaurant they loved and would visit at least weekly when they were still on M3.

“Hi.” Eojin smiles sheepishly. “So much for staying friends, huh?”

Hyeongseok doesn’t even bother trying for a smile. “Yeah,” he says wearily. “That worked well.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” Eojin says, and he really does sound sorry, but it feels like apologies are the only thing people give him now, and he doesn’t have the same patience to listen to their empty words anymore.

“How’s QG?” Hyeongseok asks instead. “I haven’t seen you play.”

Eojin shrugs, but Hyeongseok can see the slump to his shoulders, and he immediately regrets the sharpness of his words. “I left,” Eojin says. “They never gave me a chance to compete for the starting position.”

Hyeongseok frowns. “You could be better than their current mid,” he says, and leaves the _if you return back to form_ implied but unsaid.

“Well, it’s hard to trust a washed up midlaner,” Eojin says ruefully. “Especially when he showed such a terrible performance last year.” He shakes his head. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk about, I wanted to congratulate you on your split.” He smiles. “You look like you’re doing well.”

“Yeah, well,” Hyeongseok says and then sighs. “You know, don’t lie to me.”

“I heard from Hyukkyu,” Eojin says. “Congratulations to you and Sehyeong. You deserve to be happy.”

He doesn't know what's happened since, then, and at least there are small mercies in life. All the same, though, Hyeongseok closes his eyes, voice small as he says the words that haunted him so much the past year, “I was with you.”

“I—” Eojin tilts his head to the side and sighs. “You don't and didn’t need me. I—” He leans back into his seat, and Hyeongseok can see where the weight of his burden digs into his back. “You’re a World Champion,” he says, like it’s an explanation. “You don’t need to prove anything, no one can strip that title from you.”

Eojin is a two-time winner—two time _MVP_ of the most prestigious domestic tournament in the world, a series honestly more difficult than Worlds, but there's a desperation in his eyes that Hyeongseok knows no words will fix. Eojin has always had more pride, has always had more _passion_ —it's a large part of what attracted him at all.

Hyeongseok remembers last year, right in the midst of their never-ending spiral of loss, how incredibly _empty_ Eojin looked.

“Hyeongseokie,” Eojin says. “Don’t let what happened between us stop you from anything.” He smiles, a small sad one that still hits Hyeongseok where it hurts. “I lost my chance—gave up all my chances. The blame lies solely with me.”

- 

As it turns out, Sehyeong doesn't go back to Inkyu.

Instead, Hyeongseok feels a tugging at his blanket when he sleeps one night, increasing in pressure and urgency as he refuses to stir. He finally turns, frowning at the somber expression on Sehyeong's face. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Sehyeong says. "I was stupid."

Hyeongseok doesn’t reply, because what can he say to such a plain and simple fact? Instead, he pulls his blanket further up until it covers his mouth. “Okay.”

Sehyeong sighs. “I’m a selfish asshole,” he says. “I don’t deserve to ask you for anything. But please, hear me out?”

"Why should I trust you?"

Sehyeong shrugs. "You shouldn't," he says. "I've done it once, I could do it again. But." He looks away. "But I didn't realize what I was risking back then."

It’s a shitty answer.

But any answer to his question would be either shitty and inadequate or a delusional lie, so Hyeongseok will gladly take the former.

Hyeongseok sighs. “Why me?”

“Because you don’t get mad when I drink too much and don’t care that I’m a pushy, egotistical bastard,” Sehyeong says. “Because you give everyone so many chances to break your heart and yet you never hesitate to risk it every time.”

“Because you understand what it’s like to love the wrong guy,” Sehyeong continues. “Because you’re still talking to me now and letting me think I have a chance with you. I’m great at sabotaging relationships,” he says. “I’m terrible at admitting I care. But with you—” He stops and sighs.

“And if I give you a second chance?” Hyeongseok asks. “What would change?”

“Everything,” Sehyeong immediately answers. “I don’t want a rebound or a quick fuck.” He leans closer, catches Hyeongseok’s hand in his, and Hyeongseok doesn’t have the strength in him to back away.

“Jang Hyeongseok,” Sehyeong says, serious tone belying the smile on his face. “Will you go out with me?”

Hyeongseok rolls his eyes. “You’re paying.”

-

They start the second part of the split as the number one ranked team in their group and end up being invited to IEM Worlds, the much less prestigious and interesting international tournament, but still an opportunity to practice and build their synergy. It also allows them the chance to meet up with Dayoon, who Hyeongseok hasn't seen since the New Year’s break.

Dayoon looks significantly happier when they meet him backstage, bouncing along to the transition music of the opening ceremony while the rest of his team mills around him. One of them, the midlaner, Hyeongseok thinks, smiles at Dayoon in an incredibly doting way, keeping one arm wrapped possessively around Dayoon’s shoulders. But as soon as Sehyeong waves over at Dayoon, he skips over to them with a bright smile.

“Sehyeong! Hyeongseokie!” He dives in for a hug that Hyeongseok will readily admit he’s missed. Dayoon had always been one of the happier and sweeter kids on Samsung that Hyeongseok and the rest of the older members had doted on. Watching him slowly slide into shame and frustration on WE had been almost as depressing as watching Eojin distance himself—and seeing him back to his old cheerful self is a true relief.

"Ah, Dayoonie, our prodigal son." Sehyeong ruffles Dayoon's hair affectionately. "We missed you at our birthday dinner."

Dayoon rolls his eyes and sighs. "I’m not in China anymore, I can't afford to make impulsive trips like that.”

"You couldn't leave your new European boyfriend unattended," Sehyeong corrects, smirking at Dayoon's blush. "You shouldn't worry, he wouldn't stray." Sehyeong pinches a cheek, ignoring Dayoon's squeak of protest. "You're so cute."

Dayoon swats Sehyeong's hand away from his face. "Easy for you to say, you have this one."

Sehyeong tilts his head to the side before he looks back at Hyeongseok with a grin. "Huh, you're right." His smile widens as Hyeongseok shrugs back in reply, a warmth building up on the back of his neck. There are a million reasons why Hyeongseok shouldn't be happy right now, why this whole thing will end in disaster and tears, but the fondness in Sehyeong's voice as he says, "I do.”

Hyeongseok's an idiot enough to hope.

**Author's Note:**

> The happy ending in this is obviously unrealistically neat, but I live in an idealistic world where Looper is happy. Who fucking knew I had so many feelings about Looper, wtf. Just look at this [Looper/Mata](http://i.imgur.com/cwpEoFg.jpg)
> 
> My Dandy/Mata got JB, my Mata/Looper gets Selena. That's right, my titles have ~symbolism.
> 
> _(just the tip, a. just the tip.)_


End file.
